A Betrayal of Love
by BlueberryMuffins76
Summary: "A murder mystery explaining why Legolas is depressed, Thranduil is violent, and the Elvenking's wife is never mentioned." (Thanks ccgaylord for the prompt!) Yes, that does some up my story, and I must warn you it contains some severe Legolas bashing and a fairly dark Thranduil. However, I shall assure you everything works out in the end. Please R & R! Thank flyingarrow for picture
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own any Tolkien characters or places, as much as I wish Thranduil was mine! With that said, the idea for this story goes to ccgaylord, who desired "A murder mystery explaining why Legolas is depressed, Thranduil is violent, and the Elvenking's wife is never mentioned." So this tale is dedicated to her! I am also in debt to PSK for beta reading for me, &amp; Cenor for help with both the murder &amp; torture scenes! Lily Lindsey-Aubrey looked over it for me as well; thank you! Without these four people I doubt this story would be in existence. **In case you failed to read the description, this story does feature some severe Legolas bashing, but I will assure everyone it works out fine in the end. **Even though it may seem dark &amp; gruesome at times, I'd appreciate it if you stick it out to the end and then tell me what you think! Thanks!

_**Rated M for graphic murder scene descriptions, and there will be some torture later on. However, most of the people I've had read over it seem to think it's more T rated. Anyway, read at your own risk, and please review if you do read!**_

**Elvish words to know: Ada means father, Naneth means mother, _ion_ is son, and Meleth is an endearment I frequently use meaning love**

A figure dressed in a green tunic and trousers crept towards the chambers of the royal couple, Thranduil and Arabesque. His gaze darted back and forth as he sneaked along the halls, a wicked-looking knife hidden in his clothing. Knowing the Elvenqueen would let him in, as she always did, he knocked on the door.

"Come in!" she cried cheerfully, expecting her husband…although come to think of it, he didn't knock very often since they shared the room and he had as much right to it as she did.

The stealthy elf turned the doorknob and entered the chamber, a sly grin upon his fair face. Holding the knife behind his back, he walked over to where the queen had been dusting.

"Can we talk a minute?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as calm and unemotional as possible.

"You know you can talk to me any time. Come, sit on the bed and tell me about it." He obliged and they settled on the newly made coverings. Then he drew the knife and plunged it into her chest so quickly she didn't have time to scream. Ripping the knife around, he at last pulled it out and stared at the devastation he'd just made. Suddenly nervous, he ran to the door and exited, needing to get rid of the murder weapon as quickly as possible.

He noticed someone strolling down the hall. What would he do? The weapon he'd use to stab the Elvenqueen was still in his blood-soaked hands, so he hid them and his weapon behind his back. Carefully backing into a narrow corner, he watched as the elf came into view. Fairion, the second-in-command, the worst possible person to run into besides Thranduil himself, was coming! Carefully flattening himself against the wall, he shrank into the shadows. Soon Fairion passed by, apparently on some sort of mission and not paying too much attention to his surroundings. The killer breathed a sigh of relief as he went to clean off the dirk and his hands. He had to pass through the great hall in order to get where he wished to go, a dangerous move on his part but quicker than any other way and therefore worth the risk. However, as he passed through Fairion came his way yet again. The only thing he could do was shove the weapon up into a colonnade and hope for the best. He then dug his hands deep into his pockets; the blood had mostly dried, or at least it wasn't dripping from his fingers any longer.

"Good afternoon!" Fairion greeted as he walked past.

"Afternoon!" he replied, trying to make his voice as pleasant and nonchalant as possible.

They headed their separate ways, the murderer breathing a sigh of relief as he went to his room and cleaned up a bit. That was way too close!

Once he'd thoroughly washed his hands, he sat on his bed and his cats came up to him. As he petted them he noticed a bit of blood still trapped under his fingernails and quickly scrubbed up once more. He'd have to be careful from now on. Then, realizing what a foul deed in which he'd succeeded, he held his head in his hands and wept. Why did he do it? Surely there was another way to solve his problem! All he ever wanted was for the Elvenking to praise him for his wonderful fighting abilities, his fabulous looks that dazzled the ladies, really anything. But alas! Thranduil spent so much time with his wife when he was not busy attending to his kingly duties that he ignored everyone else. The killer hoped getting her out of the picture would help his king move on to caring for more elves than just his wife.

Was killing really the answer? It was too late now. Elves never murder each other. Knowing this dreadful truth, he became more depressed each day. It came to the point where he even confided in his friend about the deed, yet even that did not ease his depression.

O_O

Several hours later, Elvenking Thranduil strode into his chambers, hoping to spend some private time with his dear wife, Arabesque. However, a surprise awaited him there. As he walked in, he noticed a prostrate figure on the bed, blood pooling everywhere. He ran to the bedside and discovered the body to be his own dear Elvenqueen. Her lifeless eyes, which once sparkled with happiness and love, now stared horrified at the ceiling, never again to gaze into his in that special way. He could hardly look at where the knife had ripped into the beautiful white flesh of her chest, her entrails spilling out, lying in a pool of thick red blood against the pale green marble of the patterned floor. Only orcs killed beings this inhumanely, and even then they seemed kinder at that point than whoever did this vile deed. Such a murder must be considered the lowest scum of the earth, lower than Lord Sauron himself, and things would not be pretty if the Elvenking ever laid his hands on that person.

Grabbing her hand, he moaned, "Arabesque, my Meleth!" Already cold and lifeless, she could not respond, having been dead several hours. "Meleth, it can't be true! I need you. I love you. Who would do this to you?" The Elvenking sat in shock for a seemingly endless amount of tortuous time, moaning to himself and telling his elf-cats it was all just a bad dream. They meowed at him and rubbed his legs, sensing something was dreadfully wrong.

This appalling scene would haunt Thranduil for the rest of his life. Once he was able to process the tragedy a bit more, he determined to find his wife's murderer and bring about vengeance and justice on her behalf. The Elvenqueen was so sweet, beloved by all, gentle and kind. Who would even consider killing her? Losing her caused his heart to feel as though it had been ripped from his chest and crushed into a million pieces, then less than half given back to him. The pain was excruciating, worse than he had felt when his parents were killed long ago in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men.

A knock sounded at the door. "Go away!" the Elvenking growled.

"Your majesty, I was just checking to make sure you are alright. You normally don't spend this long away from your duties." Fairion, Thranduil's right-hand man, sounded extremely concerned, especially when he noticed the anguish in his beloved ruler's voice. He tended to sound annoyed when interrupted, but today was somehow different.

"Just go away! I want to be left alone, perhaps for the rest of my life! I have no reason to live any longer." Yes, his voice dripped with distress, so Fairion left to see if Legolas could help matters.

A few minutes later, he knocked on the Elvenprince's door. "Who is it?" At least his answer sounded friendlier!

"It's Fairion. I need to speak with you."

Legolas opened the door, curiosity marking his gaze. "Why do you need me? What about Ada?"

"That is what I need to speak to you about. He went to his room about five hours ago to be alone with your mother. He never stays that long, and when I asked he told me quite pointedly to leave. Something about his voice just wasn't right."

Legolas listened intently, furrows raising in his brow as he pondered what exactly this could mean. "Right. I shall inquire of him at once." The blonde elf strode towards his parents' chambers and knocked on the door, attempting to show more confidence than he actually felt. "Ada, is everything alright?"

"Legolas, go away now! Did Fairion put you up to this?" Thranduil's voice held the most anger the prince had heard in quite a long time.

"Ada, he is quite concerned about you. Please, tell us what is wrong!" His request was met by silence and he could feel his father's eyes boring into him through the door. "Fine. Naneth, can't you tell us what's the matter?" His mother always answered, even when she didn't particularly want to reply. Yet this time nothing sounded on the other side of the door. He thought he heard an elf cat or two meow, and even their voices sounded distressed. Legolas placed his hand on the doorknob and twisted. Much to his relief, it opened and he stepped into the room. He immediately noticed the body on the bed and rushed over. "Naneth!" he cried. "Ada, what happened here?"

Fairion had followed Legolas into the chamber and looked on, shock marring his handsome features.

The golden head of the Elvenking slowly swivelled to face the rude people who barged in on him. "There has obviously been a murder. What do you think? You, you…" Thranduil did not have words to express the sorrow and anger that raged within his soul.

Legolas knelt by the bed and took his mother's other lifeless hand and cradled it in his, tears shining in his eyes. "Who would do such a thing?" He sobbed torrential tears.

The handsome face of the Elvenking formed into the grimmest and fiercest frown anyone had ever seen. "I do not know, but when I find out, my wife's slaughterer shall pay for his crimes dearly."

The three men stayed in the room, a dreadful silence falling upon them for several more minutes as they tried to figure out exactly what happened and come to grips with the reality of the situation.

At last Thranduil stood, a grim and determined expression on his face. "I command that everyone in the entire kingdom be questioned at once. Gather everyone to my throne room immediately, from the lowest kitchen maid up to you, Fairion. Whoever murdered my wife must remunerate for this crime. If I ever get my hands on him…" He was too angry for words to express how he felt.

"Yes, King Thranduil," Fairion replied as he hastily retreated. He certainly was not one to disobey the king's orders and he did not want to be around when the murderer was located.

Now it was just the corpse, Legolas, the elf-cats, and the Elvenking left in the room. The prince finally looked up at his father. "Ada, who could do this to Naneth? Why? She would never hurt anyone or anything." Tears still shone in his eyes as he grieved for his dear mother.

"I do not know, _ion_. However, I can assure you that anyone who withholds information from me about my wife's murder shall also pay if I ever find out. Come, we must question everyone, you included, Legolas." He strode out of the room and his son followed, carefully shutting the door behind him. Later, when the questioning was over, Thranduil would send for someone to clean up the room and attend his wife's body for burial.

O_O

When Thranduil entered the throne room, cape swinging regally behind him, all his royal subjects awaited him as he took his seat. "Attention, everyone. There has been a murder here less than five hours ago."

The elves gasped and looked at each other with shocked faces. Elves never murder each other, so such a thing was quite unheard of in Mirkwood, although some had learned of murders in the countries of men.

The Elvenking inspected every face as they absorbed the news, looking for someone who only pretended surprise, yet he did not see a single face like that. Unbidden tears shone in his eyes and his voice became choked with emotion as he shared the terrible news. "Arabesque, my precious wife, and your beloved Elvenqueen, was murdered early this afternoon," he started slowly.

The whole crowd murmured and their eyes widened even more in sheer horror. Everyone loved the queen and her death could hardly be imagined.

The Elvenking pulled himself together and glared at the crowd. "If anyone, and I do mean anyone, knows anything, however small it may be, about this tragedy, he is to see me immediately. And if I find someone has withheld information from me, you all know what happens to such creatures. Does anyone have something they would like to tell me?"

Fearful for their lives, they stood trembling together. No one appeared to know anything.

"Fine. You are dismissed. It must be understood that if you think of something, you must let Fairion or Legolas know at once so they can summon me. I do not wish to be disturbed by anyone unless it is a dire need or something about the tragedy." With that he strode back towards his chambers but upon arrival could not bring himself to go inside. He summoned Fairion once again. "I should like some new rooms made ready for me on the other side of the palace. Once you take care of the…body…" he choked out, hating to admit his beloved was no longer with him, "I would like the room left as it is. You may clean up the blood, though." It hurt to admit his wife was dead and to talk about her precious lifeblood being spilled upon the bed they shared, but he knew he would have to face the reality sooner or later. Life would never be the same without her; she brought much joy and happiness into his life, especially after he lost both his parents in the War of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Now he had yet another death with which to cope and he sensed he could not bear anything else to happen.

The pain showed in Fairion's eyes, both for the loss of his queen and the suffering his king underwent every single agonizing second. "Yes, your highness. Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you. I just want to be alone, for several hours if possible. And do not allow Legolas to assault me again. I do not appreciate your allowing him to barge into my chambers uninvited."

"Yes, I am sorry. He insisted." Fairion hurried off to do his master's bidding and his orders were made ready in record time.

O_O

Meanwhile, Legolas had retreated to his chambers and sat on his bed, two elf-cats cuddled in his lap as he pondered the day's tragic events. He had little experience in death and found seeing his mother's lifeless body the most disturbing thing ever. There was so much blood, and the expression on her face haunted him. That image would stay in his mind the rest of his life, try as he might to rid himself of it. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he realized he would never again be embarrassed by watching his parents kiss in public and he would never hear her sweet voice telling him not to worry or to fear his father. She had always emphasized that though Thranduil may seem gruff and unloving on the outside at times, he truly loved those around him and sought the best for them in his own unique way.

A knock sounded at the door and Legolas groaned, and when he spoke he sounded much more like his father than he intended. "Can't you leave me alone?"

Nulad, the best friend of the royal prince, spoke from the other side of the door. "I thought you might need some company, but if you want me to leave that's fine." His voice sounded calm yet concerned, so Legolas sighed again and opened the door. "Come on in, although I know I shall be frightful company."

Nulad smiled. "I think we've seen each other at our best and worst, so it won't faze me." His eyes filled with care as he inquired, "Is there anything I can do?"

Legolas's eyes brimmed with tears yet again. "Why would someone do this to Naneth? I can't understand."

"I don't know. It's a shame. She was always kind to me. Remember how she'd make sure we had cookies and other nice treats after we'd been outside playing, or romping around in our chambers, scaring the cats?"

"Yes, she always was like that. Every time I cut or scraped myself, she insisted on bandaging them herself, and then she would kiss my injury and everything would feel better."

"I recall her doing that for me many times as well, since my Naneth sailed for the Undying Lands not long after I was born."

The two elves spent much time reminiscing on Arabesque's life and once a couple of hours had passed, the Elvenprince began to calm emotionally. He knew there would still be a long road of grieving ahead, with many ups and downs. However, Nulad's comforting words and presence could not abate the deep sorrow within his soul. In the coming days he grew almost lethargic, a far cry from his normal cocky self. Everyone worried about him when he slept in every morning, then ate an unhealthy amount of food every single meal, even asking for snack to be brought into his room (which is why many people have commented on how he appears to have lost weight between the time of the Hobbit and that of the Lord of the Rings*****). Previously, the elves could usually find him in the great hall or a library somewhere, females surrounding him as he recounted how he single-handedly slew fifteen spiders in two minutes. They all thought he was so handsome that they ignored his self-centred attitude. Yet all such boasting ceased in the days after the murder as he became a sort of recluse.

***I've seen this idea in a few places, commenting on the differences in Legolas in the two sets of films.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you, guest, for your kind review! I wasn't expecting one so soon! This story was way too fun to write...**_

**Chapter 2:** **Interrogation**

Meanwhile, Thranduil had gone back to the throne room, fairly certain it would be empty. He needed a quiet place where no one would bother him and he could think and try to figure out who the murderer could be. Thankfully the room was empty and he strode to his throne. However, this room still held Arabesque's seat situated beside his, and everywhere he turned he was plagued with memories of her, then recalled her lifeless body on their bed. "Arabesque, my love, my Meleth!" he cried, a mist coming over his eyes. He leaned over and held his head in his hands, his crown of leaves and berries tumbling to the ground. His heart, broken and torn beyond repair, caused him to fail to notice his diadem's plunge. How could he go on with life without his beloved by his side? She had always been there for him, knew his best and worst moments, and loved and cherished him all the same.

After several minutes, the Elvenking regained his regal composure and set about trying to recall who could have last seen the queen, besides himself. Everyone knew he couldn't possibly be the killer; it was obvious to even the elf who had only just met them that the couple thoroughly loved each other and would never willingly hurt the other. Suspecting Legolas was just as preposterous an idea; who would murder his own mother?

The only other person that close to the queen was Fairion, Thranduil's right hand man. He had been there for the couple ever since their marriage. He took his position when Oropher, the Elvenking's father, was slain long ago in the War of the Last Alliance of men and elves, and his second in command along with him. Fairion had been a good friend throughout Thranduil's life, and he knew he loved Arabesque almost as much as he did, although not in a romantic way but closer to a sister.

A serious expression on his dazzlingly handsome face, the Elvenking tried to remember when he had last seen the Elvenqueen alive. They had woken up that morning and had breakfast in bed together, then set about to their daily duties. After going their separate ways, they met again at lunch. Then Arabesque had gone to their chambers to tidy up a bit. Even though they had many servants who could do those sorts of things, the queen always insisted she was perfectly capable of cleaning up her own room and if she couldn't do that she wasn't worth anything as a queen.

So lunch was the last time he had seen her alive. He'd had some unexpected duties and took longer than he intended to return to his chambers. Many times the royal couple would set aside a time in the afternoon just to enjoy each other's company in the privacy of their own room, a time both cherished and enjoyed immensely; it irked him to have to see to it that the kingdom was in proper order before seeing to his precious wife. In the three hours Thranduil had been apart from his wife, any number of people could have entered their room and done the dreadful deed.

A hard look swept over his gorgeous features, and anyone who saw would have cowered in fear. Tonight at their evening meal, he would make sure he got a complete list of everyone's activities in those three hours. He would find that evil murderer if it was the last thing he did!

Finally, everyone gathered in the great hall for their meal, from the greatest to the least. Thranduil stood erect at the head of the table. "Is absolutely everyone present?"

The elves glanced around, quite frightened at his menacing tone. "Yes," they whispered, not noticing anyone missing. They knew what would happen to the elf who failed to obey the king's orders, and it certainly would not be pretty.

"Good. As you well know, we have had a great tragedy amongst us today. I command that everyone give me a detailed description of where you were from lunch this afternoon until about three o'clock. I want the reports brought straight to me the instant you have them written. I have had my chambers moved to the other side of the palace, so you will find me there. Any questions?"

His glare sent shivers down everyone's spines and they hunkered down, not daring to even whisper amongst themselves.

"Fine. Eat your food, then immediately write your reports. I suspend all your duties until you have that done." The Elvenking sat and picked at his food. He had little appetite, since some of Arabesque's favourite foods were on his plate, a vivid reminder of his devastating loss. Come to think of it, he didn't even care if he lived any more. Life without his true love was a miserable swamp of despair, like he had fallen into a dark, grimy hole with no light and absolutely no way of escape, his heart so heavy it weighed him down even further. How he hated the pitying glances his royal subjects shot him from time to time. He knew they really cared about him, but he didn't want their pity. All he wished for was to have his beloved, beautiful Elvenqueen by his side once more.

At last the long meal ended, feeling like an eternity of nostalgia and grief. Thranduil strode to his new chambers, where his elf cats meowed at him, purring and climbing on and off his lap. Even his precious pets brought back memories! However, he enjoyed their comforting purrs and rubs. If only the animals could talk! Surely they had seen what happened, considering their utter distress when he first discovered the body. But alas, even elf-cats cannot communicate in common speech, and the elves had yet to learn their special language.

_Tap. Tap._ Someone lightly rapped at his door. "Ada?" Legolas tentatively called.

"Come in, _ion_."

The blonde elf gently opened the door and stepped inside, then sat next to his father. A cat immediately jumped into his lap. "Ada, do you need a report from me as well?" His eyes looked sadly into the cornflower blues of the Ruler of Mirkwood, the deep depth of despair causing their colour to become even more pronounced.

"Well, I did say everyone in the entire kingdom, no exceptions. I suppose I should report to myself, although everyone knows I didn't do it. But you may just tell me where you were. I know you would never murder anyone, my _ion_." As much as he hated to admit it, he liked have Legolas there with him. They both needed each other in this time of grief and utter despair. After hearing a detailed description of his day the two sat in silence. Legolas had been near his parents' room because his own was located just a few doors down and it was easier to pass by that way; he had been in a portion of the palace that meant he'd either have to go a very long way to get to his chambers, or simply pass by his parents' room, so of course he chose the latter method as usual. They absentmindedly stroked the cats while trying to further process the day's tragic events. Hopefully someone would turn up some useful information. But until then, they would just have to wait, something the Elvenking is quite adept at.

Although his royal subjects were prompt with their reports, it took Thranduil, Fairion, and Legolas several days to sort through everything. After all, there were literally thousands of elves living within the halls of the Elvenking. At last they narrowed it down to 200 elves who had been in the vicinity at the right time. The Elvenking sighed. "Fairion, I shall need you to summon these elves for an intense interview. Please make out a schedule. I will be in my throne room."

"Yes, your majesty."

Thranduil stalked out of his new chambers down to his throne room, utterly ignoring anyone he passed, his eyes glazed over. Incredibly overwhelmed and grief-stricken, he was unsure how he would make it through the day. Just before he reached the door, a deep need for chocolate swept over him. He turned to face the frightened maid who happened to be passing by at that moment. "Would you please run down to the kitchen and have the cooks send something chocolaty to my throne room?"

"Right away, your highness!" She curtsied and trotted off, much relieved that she didn't experience his gruesome wrath.

The kitchen staff fulfilled the order in record time and the head cook personally delivered it. Once she disappeared, the Elvenking delicately took a forkful of a dark chocolate cake, moist and gooey. "Mmm." There was nothing like chocolate to help clear one's mind and give him focus on the task at hand. However, even the sweet treat brought back memories of Arabesque. She too had been an avid chocoholic and at least once a week they would share a delicious dessert in the privacy of their chambers. Why did every little thing have to remind him of her? Was there no escape?

About 30 minutes later, the first victim arrived and timidly knocked at the door. "Come in," the Elvenking called, sounding much testier than he intended.

A young maid stepped inside, visibly trembling. Thranduil instantly knew she had nothing to do with the murder but questioned her some anyway. This was going to be a long day, one of many, he sighed to himself as she exited.

It took about a week before the last ten elves were to appear before the Elvenking's throne. So far every single elf obviously cared about the Elvenqueen and showed signs of distress of even being suspected of killing her. Their ruler was surprised at their open honestly; no one even denied where he or she had been and Thranduil hurt to even have to question them, even if he did seem rather frightening and vengeful to his subjects. However, they all understood his past had wreaked much havoc on his soul; with his parents dying tragically in battle along with two-thirds of their armed forces, and now his wife the victim of a brutal attack, it was little wonder to anyone that he appeared so angry.

Fairion was one of the last to come in. "Here I am, sire."

"Fairion, why do I even bother asking you anything? You were with me practically the entire time I was away from my beloved." The other elves wondered the same thing but soon realized their ruler remained just, as always, and could show no partiality.

"I know. But you said you would question every single elf, so you cannot exclude me."

So Thranduil questioned him, even though both knew it was a useless endeavour. Finally, he sighed. "Do you think the killer is someone not from our own kingdom?"

"King Thranduil, you know how tight our security is here. It is impossible for anyone to infiltrate our kingdom without our knowledge. It has to be someone from our own midst, and I daresay someone quite near to us. How many more elves do you have to question?"

The Elvenking looked at his schedule. "Only one. Nulad, Legolas' best friend. I'm glad you saved him for last; he seems to have taken my Elvenqueen's death almost as hard as Legolas has."

"Your majesty, someone has to be lying. Make sure you question Nulad extremely thoroughly."

The handsome king gave his second in command a quizzical look, leading the man to explain. "I don't trust him. He's always seemed shifty to me, as far as elves go."

"I trust your judgement, Fairion, although I am quite sceptical. You are dismissed," he waved his hand to shoo him away.

A few minutes later, Nulad was summoned in. He stood tall and proud, his gorgeous flaxen locks falling perfectly into place. A favourite among the female elves and quite a lady's man, he was the third handsomest elf in Mirkwood, following Thranduil and Legolas. The best friends enjoyed joking about the way women were drawn to them like magnets and both enjoyed all the attention quite thoroughly. They fought side by side fearlessly, watching each other's backs and then congratulating each other on their success, although it tended to be mostly Nulad complimenting Legolas. Now, as he stood before his ruler, he looked directly into Thranduil's eyes, bold and unafraid as he would be in a battle.

The Elvenking remembered Fairion's warning and would not spare the man anything. Glaring at him, he demanded, "Where were you between the lunch hour and three-o'clock in the afternoon, exactly ten days ago?"

"Sire, you have received my report and know that after eating lunch, I spent some time with Legolas then walked in the vicinity of your royal chambers."

"Yes, and you never did explain just exactly what you were doing near my room," he hissed.

"I told you, just taking a stroll, thinking up some poetry to impress the ladies. Besides, Legolas's room is so near to yours that it's easier for us to pass by whenever we go there to see to his cats."

Thranduil's eyes blazed with fury. "You will tell me right now exactly what you did, or else I shall send you down to the dungeons."

The elf continued to vie with his master, the only royal subject who had resisted telling everything. "Nulad, I know what you are hiding, so you had better not deny it. You killed my wife, after all the loving kindness she bestowed upon you! How dare you do such a thing in my kingdom!"

"No!" Fear flashed in his eyes before they hardened into a stoic expression.

"Guards!" Thranduil shouted, and two elves armed with spears rushed in. "Take this sorry excuse for an elf down to the dungeons immediately! Put him on the rack until he squawks. We shall have more questioning later on, and justice will be served," he glared at the younger man as the guards dragged him away.


	3. Chapter 3

_**I have another follower! Hi there!**_

_**This is yet another gruesome chapter!**_

**Chapter 3: The Elvenking's Wrath**

Down in the dungeons, the darkest and loneliest portion of the palace, the guards wasted no time in putting their prisoner on the rack. While they hated torturing even orcs, putting one of their own through such agony proved to be almost as painful for them as it was for Nulad. He stoically bore the pain of his arms and legs being stretched to their maximum, coming close to popping out of the joints. His muscles screamed as they were pulled to their maximum extension plus some, as though someone were trying to tear him in two by ripping him apart as an orc would strip a chunk of flesh from a lamb's leg with his teeth. After about thirty minutes, one of the guards became so distressed that he ran back upstairs to the throne room and knocked on the door. "King Thranduil?" he inquired.

"Come in," he growled and the elf timidly stepped inside.

"Please, your majesty, may we put our prisoner in his cell now? I think he has been through enough."

"No! I want that beast to pay for his crimes. He has caused me to suffer unbearable pain, so he must too undergo agonizing torture. If you aren't willing to do it, I shall go and take care of the matter myself. And while I'm at it, I shall relieve you of your duties. Have Fairion put you to work in some other portion of the palace. I cannot have weak guards within my ranks." The Elvenking's cornflower blue eyes darkened in his anger and the man cowered before him.

"Yes, your highness," he backed away and practically ran down the halls, very much embarrassed and chastised. He never wanted to face his ruler's wrath again!

Once the impudent elf left, Thranduil strode down to the dungeons. "What's this I hear about pitying my prisoner?" he demanded.

The remaining guards visibly shivered at his cold tone. "Sire, we simply thought that since Nulad is one of our own people, surely you would not want us to torture him all day. You never even do that to orcs!"

"This is an entirely different matter. Orcs at least kill relatively humanely. That elf, if you can even call him such, slaughtered my wife in cold blood! What else do you expect me to do with him? Slap his hand and tell him not to do it again? Really, if I let him go free, then others among us might think they can get away with huge crimes as well, and I will not have that in my kingdom. My people have suffered enough as it is."

They had no reply and simply stood there awaiting commands. Everyone understood he referred to the great battle long ago in the War of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, in which both his parents had been killed. Their ruler hadn't been the same since; watching the gruesome slaughtering of his parents and two-thirds of his people had wreaked much havoc within him. It was rumoured that he hated to sleep because it brought back nightmares from that fateful day. Sometimes they would catch him gazing off into the distance with a look of deep sadness and remorse hidden within his cornflower blue portals. It was little wonder he took the death of his wife so harshly and everyone wished there was something, anything, that they could do to help their king.

The Elvenking walked over to the rack and peered into Nulad's face. "What do you have to say for yourself now?"

"Nothing, your majesty. I told you I was lost in thought as I passed your chambers, making up some poetry for the ladies." He retained his alibi and determined to never give it up.

However, Thranduil was not amused. "Take him to the next room and continue with the torture routine until he talks. Surely that will get something out of him," he commanded as he turned to leave.

That cell consisted of a tank of water, where the victim was repeatedly held under until he could no longer hold his breath. It seemed to work quite well to get information out of orcs; they loathe water and many times fear it, so they'd learn to talk rather quickly simply to stop their agonizing fear and pain.

However, Nulad, as a fighter, proved to be another sort of victim entirely. The guards winced every single time they lowered his head into the water. He'd feel himself plunging downward and quickly take a deep breath before his face met the icy water. The world seemed upside down and out of place as he lay there, and then his lungs would demand some fresh air, his chest hurting as though a million tiny daggers stabbed him, forcing him to release his breath as he fought for air. Then his mouth and lungs filled with fluid and he coughed and gagged, eyes popping open in panic as his body told him he was drowning. The water hurt his eyes and he squinted them shut, fighting to stay conscious. Once the guards raised him back into the fresh air, he could see their faces apologetically staring at him as he coughed and gulped fresh air back into his sore lungs. Every single dip they'd ask him if he was ready to tell them more, and each time he'd give the same answer: No.

Legolas proved to be extremely upset when he learned of his friend's capture. He stalked to the throne room but found it empty, so he then travelled to his father's new chambers. "Ada?" he asked forcefully as he pounded the door.

"No! I will not set him free! How dare you even think to ask such a thing?" Thranduil answered before the question he was sure would come, not in the mood for any kind of nonsense.

"Ada, I only wish to ask you why! I have already lost Naneth, and now you threaten to kill my best friend as well? You will slowly torture yourself to death with grief." The prince's heart had grown bitter and depressed. He had never really known death before; his grandparents died or sailed to the Undying Lands before he was born. He only had elven friends growing up, and most of them remained in Mirkwood, strong and healthy like any other of their fair race. Now, as he faced losing everyone dear to him, he came to the conclusion there was nothing he could do and things would only get worse from there. Besides, his father had now reverted even further into whatever horrid memories he had of his own parents' deaths, making him even harder to talk to.

Thranduil sighed, sensing Legolas's depressive state through the door. "Just go away! If you don't quit bothering me, I shall have to put you in the dungeons as well! In a cell, at the very least."

"Alright, Ada." His shoulders drooped as he dawdled away to his own rooms, hoping his cats would provide him some comfort. While he wanted to go and see his friend, he knew watching the ongoing torture would only make his mood even darker and he simply couldn't take any more of that.

O_O

Once again in the throne room, Thranduil knew something did not sit quite right as far as the situation with Nulad went. Why would someone who was that close to the Elvenqueen's only child murder her, knowing how much mother and son loved each other? Despite Fairion's misgivings, the Elvenking had always liked the young elf up until the point he interrogated him. Fairion! "Someone send for Fairion at once!" Thranduil bellowed, and within two minutes the man appeared in the doorway.

"Your highness?"

His greeting was met with a huge scowl. "Fairion, why do you think Nulad is the murderer?"

"I told you, I've never liked him and just sense something isn't right about him."

"Have you had his rooms searched? We need to locate the murder weapon immediately."

"I'll see that it's done right away."

"And before you go, I remember there were about thirty minutes that you were not by my side. Did you murder my wife?"

The second-in-command looked shocked, his eyes bulging with a pained look behind them. "Why would I do that? I have been close you both of you ever since you parents died and you became king. I loved Arabesque like a sister. You know that!" His eyes sadly gazed into the tormented ones of his beloved master.

"Alright. You are dismissed." The elf king almost looked defeated. Would justice ever be served? He never could fully satisfy his need for revenge on those who killed so many of his people many millenniums ago. It haunted him that there was nothing he could do, no way he could ever wipe out enough of the evil forces of Sauron to compel his wrath against Mordor.

After a thorough search of Nulad's chambers, the only knives he had were confiscated and carefully examined. However, nothing unusual showed up on them. Thranduil also had Fairion's chambers searched as a precaution, yet once again nothing showed up. The investigators realized that after over a week the killer had plenty of time to thoroughly clean his, or her, weapons and thus never be found. It frightened everyone to think that they had a murderer in their midst; would he strike again? If so, who would be the next victim? The Elvenking Thranduil himself? Or Legolas?

O_O

Clothed in a green tunic and trousers, the murderer sat dejected in his chambers. The only living beings he had ever killed had been orcs and other such enemies, as well as some fish for food from time to time. While he had grown to hate the Elvenqueen with a passion, killing her did not grant him the satisfaction he thought it would. He had thoroughly convinced himself that since the queen rarely complimented him on his stunning abilities to do absolutely everything, and the king was even worse in that he never complimented him at all, that having her gone would lead Thranduil to see what an amazing elf he was. Everyone else fed his intense need to be noticed, complimented, and upheld; why did his own ruler refuse to give him what he craved the most? Thranduil was always so busy spending time with his wife whenever he wasn't attending to kingly business, so the murderer assumed that getting her out of the way would help. But so far nothing had gone right!

Should he give himself up to the Elvenking? He shuddered, knowing if Thranduil ever found out he had slaughtered Arabesque, his life as he knew it would be over. After and extreme and agonizing amount of torture, the killer would be executed as an example to all. And facing the wrath of the Elvenking terrified even the bravest souls. His compliments were what the killer desired most, not wrath. No, he would never admit to his deed until the evidence came up against him. Evidence! No! He realized he had hidden the knife he used in the great hall, still stained with Arabesque's blood. It was surprising no one had smelled it yet; surely it would have an odour by now. Thankfully the knife was actually an orcish blade he had taken from the last goblin he'd killed. The Black Speech written on its handle had intrigued him, as well as the interesting curve of the blade itself. How would he get the dirk back, and once he had it in his hands how could he dispose of it?

O_O

Two days later, Thranduil stalked down to the dungeons. "Nulad, I will give you one last chance to tell me everything. Guards, release him and then leave us alone." The elves quickly obliged and took a much-relieved Nulad off the rack, then exited as they almost ran over each other trying to get out the door faster than the others. However, they remained huddled near the door once it closed behind the last elf, wondering what exactly their ruler was up to. His voice held such a menacing tone that they all jumped when he spoke, then stood trembling, unable to tear themselves away from the scene which was about to unfold.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" The Elvenking glared.

"I told you I was wandering about composing poetry. I have done nothing wrong." The younger elf stoically bore the harsh interrogation, looking his ruler straight in the eye. However, Thranduil was still not convinced.

"How dare you stand there and lie to my face! If you did not slaughter my wife, who did?"

Nulad actually was very much aware of the identity of the killer and stayed silent, unwilling to reveal the secret and fearing the king's wrath on himself even if he was innocent.

"You have five seconds to tell me the truth!" Thranduil shouted, then stood with his cornflower blue eyes blazing into Nulad's. It brought back horrible childhood memories to the younger elf as he recalled his own father counting down the time until punishment when he'd disobeyed. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five!" the Elvenking's voice cut the air like a knife. "Well, do you have anything to tell me?"

"No, your majesty, I wish to tell you nothing."

"Fine! If that's how it's going to be…" The guards waiting outside the door winced as they heard him whip out his sword. Before the younger elf could say or do anything, the blade sliced through the air. In one smooth motion, Nulad's head fell to the floor and rolled a few feet from the body, blood squirting everywhere. Thranduil didn't even give a backward glance as he strode out of the room. "Dispose of the body," he ordered the shocked guards as he made his way back to his throne room. Such elves were utterly exasperating! But little did the Elvenking know that he had just put to death the only person who knew the murderer.

The guards murmured amongst themselves as they prepared to see the disaster which awaited them. It took a few minutes to work up the courage to even peek their heads in the doorway, dreading the scene that awaited them. While they were rather accustomed to a beheading occurring with their enemies, such as orcs, they had never seen or heard their king kill one of their own before. As if hearing about their beloved Elvenqueen being murdered wasn't bad enough, now their very own Elvenking had just killed someone, and Legolas' best friend at that.

"Poor Nulad," a guard commented. "I'm sure he knew something but was protecting someone. Now we'll never know who slaughtered our dear Queen."

"Let's keep this quiet as much as possible. Everyone is already nervous about a murderer running around in our midst, and knowing King Thranduil has taken to killing suspects will worry them even more," another pointed out.

"Yes. But Legolas has to know, if his father doesn't tell him…I don't want to be the one to do it. He's already too depressed over his mother as it is."

"I suppose we should give Nulad a proper burial, then I shall see to Legolas."

With that said, they walked into the cell to discover Nulad's body sprawled on the floor, blood pooled on the grey stone floor beneath the cadaver. Every single elf paled at the scene and stood in shocked silence. Finally, feeling quite sick, the guards cleaned up the mess the best they could and laid Nulad to rest in Mirkwood Forest, hoping fate would deal with him fairly in the afterlife.

_**A question from the author: Who do you think the murderer is? Is it Fairion, Nulad, or someone else? I just want to make things clear: Thranduil is not, I repeat, is not the murderer, which is why he has graciously been left out of the suspect list. However, all shall be revealed in the next and final installment!  
**_


	4. Chapter 4

**_-Drum roll please- Here is the final installment! I hope you enjoy! And there is a surprise ending! :D_**

**4\. Revelations  
**

Meanwhile, a young elf maiden played in the great hall, pretending she was an expert dancer like her mother and the Elvenqueen when she was still with them. Then she sniffed the air. "Ew!" she thought and ran to a servant who had been dusting the room and kindly left her alone, realizing children need to play and have fun. "Excuse me! I smell something funny over here."

"Show me." The maid followed her and sniffed the air. Blood. An unmistakable odour. "I think you should go back to your mother now, sweetie."

"Alright!" the little girl skipped away, unconcerned.

The elf maiden looked around, then spotted a dull shimmer at the top of a column. Grabbing a chair, she stood on it and reached for the object. "Ouch!" she exclaimed as it sliced into her hand. Upon retrieving it, she saw it was an ugly orcish dirk, stained with dried blood and creating a terrible stench. She dropped it on the floor when she realized what it might be: the murder weapon! "No!" she screamed. She had just touched something that likely killed her very own queen! Then she came to her senses and wrapped it in her apron, being very careful not to touch in any more than necessary, loathing the thought of bearing the evil weapon. She trotted to the throne room and knocked on the door. "Your majesty?"

Thranduil had only returned from the dungeons a few minutes ago and was surprised to hear someone call for him so quickly.

"Come in," he sighed. Whatever the elf wanted, he was not in the mood to grant any favours whatsoever.

The maid carefully walked towards him and explained the situation. He listened in silence then stared as he beheld the dirk that might hold the key to his whole investigation. "Do you have any idea who this belongs to?" he inquired, a grave expression on his handsome face.

"No. I'm sorry! I would say it belongs to someone in your army, but that is an obvious fact."

"Right. Please, leave the vile thing here and send Fairion to me."

She obliged and soon the two men were in a heated discussion about the murderer. Fairion was utterly convinced that Nulad what the culprit and with his death came the death of the killer, but Thranduil had second thoughts about the man and realized he might have just executed an innocent person in the heat of the moment. If only Arabesque were here! She would have helped him control his anger and not be so rash…Finally, the Elvenking dictated that all his army be summoned to behold the weapon.

The elven army had gathered in the throne room. It took several hours and a few elves vaguely recalled someone commenting on the beauty of the dirk, which they all found very strange. After all, their purpose was to exterminate the forces of evil. Finding beauty in something so vile seemed abnormal at best. Some recalled how orcs used to be elves but were tortured so much that their minds snapped and they became evil, which worried them. Could someone within their own army have been wooed enough by the darkness to turn into one of their enemies? At last someone piped up, "I think Legolas took it! I distinctly remember his comments on how unique the designs were."

"What!?" Thranduil roared, sending a shudder through the crowd. "My son? Send for him at once!"

Legolas had pleaded to stay in his room and the Elvenking couldn't bring himself to insist on his presence since he had just killed Nulad, his best friend. However, now things had utterly changed.

The elvenprince dragged himself to the throne room, where he was met with a stony stare of doom. "Legolas, do you recognize this dirk?" Thranduil bellowed, fire blazing in his eyes.

The elf glanced at the weapon, then lowered his head and refused to answer.

"I asked you a question and I expect an answer. Now!" The onlookers jumped at the menacing tone and huddled together, fearing what might transpire in the next few moments.

Spinning on his heels, Legolas darted through the crowd with his father hot on his trail. Startled elves jumped out of the way and clung to each other as Thranduil shouted, "Do you mean to tell me you slaughtered your own mother, the very woman who loved and cherished you, who brought you into this world?" He whipped out his sword as he ran.

However, dodging his startled subjects made him lose precious time and his son escaped out of the gates and disappeared into Mirkwood, so the Elvenking gave up the chase, knowing it to be futile. "I command from henceforth that Legolas is banished from the kingdom of Mirkwood. If he so steps even a foot within my realm, he is to be executed on sight." Thranduil would have no more murders within his kingdom! From that day forward he had a hard time expressing love towards others, fearing that he would either lose them or they would turn against them.

Additionally, his temper grew hot towards all who dared to oppose him, even more than he used to be. It hurt him to know he had slain a mostly-innocent elf; the only thing Nulad had done against him was withholding information and refusing to tell, which while worthy of torture is certainly not a crime worthy of death. Nulad's blood would forever be on Thranduil's hands. However, his people remained loyal and understanding and assured him they understood why he did it and would not hold it against him.

These tragic events are why Legolas moved to Ithilien after the War of the Ring, forever regretting his actions and living in a state of depression constantly. Even his victories in battle and friendly conflict with Gimli over how many orcs they slayed could not combat his negative view of himself. The image of his mother lying dead on the bed haunted every thought, only forgotten when he was in the most intense parts of a battle.

O_o

The curtains closed as the play finished, and the crowd clapped wildly, cheering and stomping their feet. A voice in the background proclaimed, "No elves were harmed in the making of this play." Thranduil even detected some whistles, with which he was most unpleased. The cast lined up with Arabesque and Thranduil in the middle and the curtain opened. They all bowed and smiled at their adoring fans, even if the onlookers were dreadfully annoying and making fools of themselves. At last the crew closed the curtains and the Elvenking took his wife into his arms and smothered her lips with his. The audience demanded a second bow, but the royal couple retained their embrace, not caring who saw them and quite through with all the attention. This moment was for them and them alone, lost in a world of only the two of them and no one else. The crew knew they would get no more from their rulers and once again closed the curtains.

Thranduil finally drew back and breathed, "Meleth, our makeup artist is so talented! Remind me to give him a raise! When I saw you lying there in the first act appearing to be dead, my heart literally stopped beating. I felt as though I died a thousand deaths in a fraction of a second. I knew I'd rather be dead than to live without you. Then you winked at me and I knew everything would be fine. But this is the last time I will ever do a play! It wreaks too much havoc on my emotions."

The Elvenqueen smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with love. "Really? So that's how you would truly act if something were to happen to me in actuality?"

"Yes! Although in reality I think I'd die right alongside you! I cannot bear the thought of life without you! It was pure agony to not have you near for this entirely-too-long and stupid play!" To prove his point, he kissed her soundly once again then whisked her away to their chambers.

As for Nulad, Fairion, and Legolas, they shared great relief when the play was over. Legolas caught Nulad as they walked to their chambers. "Wow, am I glad that is over! People will never look at me the same way again!"

"Why did we ever agree to this? I mean, I had to get killed out there! By your own Ada!"

"Let's face it, we are two stupid elves! Do you think all those female elves will still like us after this? You're probably going to be pitied, but me…"

"Hey, we're still in the top three handsomest elves in the kingdom, so I think we shall be fine. They know you aren't really a murderer. Wait, you're not, are you? You kind of scared me there…"

"Hey!" Legolas freaked out. "You know I would never kill another elf, especially not my Naneth!"

"So you say," Nulad teased.

They playfully wrestled, effectively mussing their perfect hair and clothing. Then they straightened out and went to their own rooms, rather exhausted after the long play.

Fairion strode to his chambers, deep in thought. While it was an interesting experience, this murder mystery dinner theatre, he was not sure he wanted to do it again. Some of the elves had expected him to be the murderer! The nerve! However, if his people enjoyed it and the Elvenking commanded it, perhaps it was worth all the emotional ups and downs.

Back in the royal chambers, Thranduil had one last thought about the play before attending to his wife. He would never, ever allow another murder mystery night and was quite thankful this was the end of that. Or is it?...

O_O

**_Author's Comments: I hope you all enjoyed it! What did you think? Do you like the surprise ending? I had planned to actually kill her and leave her dead, but then I couldn't bring myself to be that cruel to my fave elf, although I do have plans to write about her death once I see the extended edition of The Battle of the Five Armies &amp; find out what PJ says about her death (if anything :P )._**


End file.
